The Journal,
E. B. MARTINDALE & CO., Proprietors.
Indianapolis, Jan 28, 1880
Dear Taylor:
'Spect you're thinkin I ort o'
be unwarned in the first degree
for not a-writin' sooner, but the
fact is I've been all mixed for
a long time, and just couldn't!
I got the papers containing that
list of Galva sentiments re-
garding my pints as a reader,
and I was glad in body and
soul clean through and through
if I didn't let a word of
thanks escape me. I was
mighty sorry to hear that you
were stricken so seriously
after my visit - but its only
additional proof of a theory I have,
that everything and everybody with which

I come in contact must suffer in
some way by way of penalty for having
dared to nuss me in the warm lap
of their interest (This figure I will copyright)
- But for not an instant have I
forgotten you and your good wife -
and the children - bless 'em! I have
a world of things to tell you, and
want and need the hand of you
every hour of every day of every
year. My latest literary feat I sent
you yesterday. (A scotch poem, that I
hope burns to the socket of your
delight!) - And such a rare old
time I had with your brothers
at Crawfordsville not long ago!
Then I met your sister, and if
it wasn't for you - O Fat Head and
Lifted Face! I'd agree that she really
was the smartest Taylor of the lot.
Wish I had time to moan awhile
over my sentences, and I'd

answer that broken verse that
put so bright a [ ?] on the
tip of your last letter, but I
just can't.
I want to see you - and the
more I read the "Widden Plumket",
the more I love you. That makes
a splendid reading, and I'm going
to use it sometime in my programme
giving proper credit, however much
I want to claim the thing my-
self. At Crawfordsville I saw
the faces of yourself and wife,
and I stared at 'em - smiled at
'em and chortled over 'em till your
ears must have burnt like tableau
lights! God bless you both is the
the very earnest prayer of Yours Till death
J.W. Riley
(Write! Write! Write!) (over)

I came near forgetting your
poem to Parker - Allah prosper
him! -------It was just pure
good, and I know it must have
"warmed the cockles of his heart."
You will never regret saying a
good word for that man. And
although you love him now -
not knowing him - you will love
him more and more, when you
meet him face to face. He will
answer that poem of yours with
another - sure. And when he
does, it will remand you as
you deserve.
As ever I bid,
J.W.R.